


in the same boat

by WritingQuill



Series: At the Movies [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Bisexual Harry, EWE, M/M, PWP, Paris (City), Redeemed Draco, Sex Club, Surprise encounter, Walking, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 05:31:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8315746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingQuill/pseuds/WritingQuill
Summary: After a surprising first encounter after many years, Harry and Draco wander through the streets of Paris in the early hours of the morning, getting to know each other again. [somewhat inspired by the French film Theo and Hugo]





	

**4:27**

Harry Potter has no plan. 

He doesn’t feel as cold as he thought he would, standing in this large room, completely naked apart from the shoes on his feet – a beat-up old pair of Chucks with mismatched socks underneath. He also doesn’t feel as exposed as he thinks he should, because everyone around him is just as naked. Their writhing nude bodies are painted in the blue and red of the dimmed lights which give the room an ethereal glow, almost surreal. Some kind of electronic beat was vibrating through the walls, but Harry couldn’t make any of the words out, as they were all in French, and besides, he was too distracted by the orgy before his eyes. 

Gay clubs were not hard to come by in Paris, and over the past month and a half he’d been living here, he’d visited the trendiest ones, looking to experience what had been so unattainable to him in London. But this is his first time in a sex club, and the confidence exuding from the men surrounding him makes him all the more self-conscious about his own body, his own insecurities, and his lack of experience. But they are beautiful, and he can’t look away. 

By the wall there are at least groups fucking each other. Groups of two to five, some men on their knees sucking hard cocks, and some on all fours, groaning as they are penetrated and get their own dicks pumped by a third guy, who is getting a blow job from someone else. And they are all beautiful. All skin tones, glistening with sweat, hair plastered on their foreheads, eyes lidded with pleasure, toes curling. Some are hairy, some aren’t; but they are all lithe and well-shaped. Harry feels himself salivating as he watches. 

In some corners, there are voyeurs. Men who come in to watch only. It’s accepted here; expected. They stroke themselves leisurely as they watch the groups fuck. Harry doesn’t want to be one of them, he wants to get laid. He wants so bad to be with one of those men, those beautiful, fantastically sexy men. 

A guy puts his hand on Harry’s shoulder, then pressed his lips against his lightly, then with a bit more gusto, and Harry returns it eagerly. Their tongues meet, the man tastes of red wine and cigarettes, which Harry fancies is very French of him. He’s good-looking, of course. Brown curly hair, olive skin, a little taller than Harry but not too much. His cock is hard and pressing against Harry’s thigh. He grab’s Harry’s, stroking the shaft, cupping the balls, making Harry groan. 

The music washes over him as this man places kisses on his shoulders while stroking him. Harry runs his hands over his body, mapping the lean muscles on his torso, feeling the hairs on his chest. It feels liberating to do this here, surrounded by men doing the same, and the magic is alive in him, even if he is in Muggle Paris (or how the French call it _Paris Moldus_.) 

He opens his eyes, to look at his partner, but something nearby catches his attention. A few feet away from them is a couple writhing together. One of the men is just as anonymous as Harry’s partner – well-built, dark, handsome, eyes heavy-lidded in ecstasy. The other is… familiar. All too familiar. Harry hadn’t seen him in many years, but he could never forget the paleness of his skin, the whiteness of his hair, the sharpness of his features. His moans sound deeper than everyone else’s, and Harry feels sixteen again, obsessed with him, only this time he could not fool himself into thinking it was anything other than lustful yearning. 

Harry watches Draco Malfoy turn his partner over and prepare him without much care. The man grins and said something in French that Harry didn’t understand. Malfoy smirks and pushes into him, making the man hiss and smile wider as he gains back his breath. Harry’s partner is on the ground, mouthing his cock with gusto, but Harry can’t feel it, he can only see Malfoy a few feet away, thrusting eagerly into the anonymous man, his perfect body taut with unreleased pleasure. 

He pulls his partner up and kisses him on the lips, he can taste himself in his tongue – it is electrifying. Harry grabs the man’s bum and holds a question in his eyes. The man smirks and moves to bend over, but Harry manoeuvres them closer to Malfoy and his partner, who are now almost at the point of climax judging by the speed of Malfoy’s thrusts. They are side by side now, facing Malfoy and his partner. Harry bends over his anonymous man, and uses the lube from the dispenser to start working on his hole. The man was prepared already, open and ready to take it. Harry pulls a condom over his cock, and presses in, eliciting a deep groan from his partner. 

Malfoy is thrusting in front of him, bending so low he is almost lying with his chest on his partner’s back. Harry bends forward as he thrust as well, hypnotised by the wet hair plastered on Malfoy’s forehead. They are so close now, Harry can feel Malfoy’s breath on his cheek and the heat emanating from his body. His skin smells of lemongrass and his breath smells of cigarettes and gin. Harry wonders if Malfoy’s noticed him yet. The magic feels so strong inside him, like it’s circling above them and cocooning them in warmth. He doesn’t know if he’s thrusting anymore or if he’s stopped moving all together. Malfoy opens his eyes and looks right at him. 

There’s confusion there, a sliver of fear, but also a great amount of determination. Malfoy’s eyes have always held so much, and they are infinite now, looking deep into Harry’s. It feels like an eternity before anything happens, and it is entirely unexpected. Malfoy says nothing, doesn’t move at all but his neck, forward, until his lips are pressed tight against Harry’s. 

Now they are rocking together, their kiss deepening as their partners groaned below them. Malfoy’s tongue is clever, and his kisses sent electric shocks up and down his spine. It’s magic, he was certain. No one can be this alluring without using magic. But he doesn’t care, it feels too good. It feels right, too, like he belongs in this kiss, and he is frustrated that he is only encountering it now. For the first time in a long while, Harry doesn’t care that he doesn’t have a plan, because with his free hand he grabs Malfoy by the back of the neck and pulls him closer. Their partners are forgotten as Malfoy smiles into the kiss. Everything else disappears around them, and Harry suddenly feels Malfoy’s entire body pressed against his. His head is tilted up because Malfoy is much taller. Their chests touch, Malfoy’s nipples are hard and Harry rubs them with his hands. Malfoy palms Harry’s cock, runs a thumb over the head, smearing precum on the sides, and strokes up and down the shaft. Harry moans and takes Malfoy’s bottom lip into his mouth, sucks on it, drains the flavour of his lips like blood. Malfoy’s skin is flawless, pearl white, and surprisingly unmarred by any scars. Except his left arm, which is covered from shoulder to wrist in an intricate tattoo sleeve. The Dark Mark is nowhere to be seen. Harry runs his fingertips over the whole arm, and they stop for the first time. Malfoy looks intently at him, his unrelenting eyes challenging Harry to say something. Harry daren’t, he brings Malfoy’s left hand to the small of his back and gives him a nod, then places fervent kisses on his collarbone, making Malfoy groan as his hand travels down Harry’s bum, grabs him with teases his entrance ever so slightly with his pointer finger. 

They are on a surface, a table of sorts, and Malfoy brings them on top of it. Harry straddles his lap, and leans forward, feeling exposed with his legs open like that, and Malfoy works on his hole, opening him up gently with lube, far more gently than his previous partner, who Harry doesn’t want to think about. He feels this connection so strongly and doesn’t want to sever it with unwanted thoughts. It hurts at first to have Malfoy’s fingers probing him, but once they reach his prostate, all he feels is pleasure, and he relaxes further, letting Malfoy trade his fingers for his cock, which is hard, and long, and beautiful. Malfoy brings Harry to sit on his lap, fitting completely onto Malfoy’s cock. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Once he is ready, they begin to rock together in unison. Malfoy hits the spot every time. Harry begins to groan louder, and bites Malfoy’s shoulder to stop himself from screaming. Malfoy kisses Harry’s neck, pulls his hair, pumps his cock until Harry can barely take it. 

It doesn’t take long before they cum together. First Malfoy, thrusting one last time, deep and hard into Harry, then Harry himself, spilling all over their bellies. 

They lie together for a few moments, regaining their breath. Then Malfoy brings a band to Harry’s jaw and pulls him up for a kiss. Harry smiles against his lips and kisses him back, slower now, more tender than before, now that the urgency to cum has gone away. 

Without a word, they separate, and Harry fetches a tissue from the dispenser on the wall, and cleans them both up. Malfoy throws the condom in the bin. They look at each other in silence. Around them, the other men continue to fuck and groan and moan and scream, but Malfoy’s eyes are on Harry, so he can’t hear any of it. 

Then Malfoy extends a hand, which Harry takes, and brings him up the steps taking them to the entrance of the club. The music gets muffled once the door closes, but the bar at the entrance is still dimmed. Some men are sitting there, flirting in the nude while sipping their drinks. Harry and Malfoy go to the clothes check to fetch their clothes. The attendant hands them their respective bags, and they go to the corner to change. 

Harry takes out his underwear, jeans, T-shirt and hoodie, and slips off his shoes before putting them on. He notices Malfoy’s outfit. Dark well-fitted jeans that hug his bum and his calves perfectly. A white T-shirt. A beat-up pair of Doc Martens. A blue denim jacket. He looks delectable in Muggle clothes; Harry never would have guessed. Or maybe he would. Maybe he did. 

After they finish dressing, they walk to the cashier and pay their bills. Malfoy’s is €12.00 for the room and the gin and tonic. Harry’s end up €9.90, for the room and a beer. They step out into the cold Parisian morning, walk into the light of the streetlamps, and the spell finally breaks. 

**4:57**

They look into each other properly for the first time. Harry can’t believe that actually happened. He actually had sex with Draco Malfoy in a gay sex club in Paris at four in the morning. It’s Sunday now. If he were in England he would be asleep, and he would wake up in a few hours to spend the day at the Weasleys’. He didn’t even know Malfoy lived in Paris. 

‘I didn’t know you were living in Paris,’ is what Harry says in lieu of pleasantries or anything remotely cool. He chides himself mentally. 

‘I am,’ is what Malfoy says. It feels weird to think of him as Malfoy – they’ve just fucked five minutes ago. 

They stand in silence for a while. It’s still pitch black outside, so the streetlamps cast a yellow glow on them. The street is quiet and empty. Harry wonders where they’ll go after this. This can’t just… end. On the street. His heart clenches at the thought. 

‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ asks Draco, looking anywhere but at Harry. Harry smiles and nods. They cross the street and pick a random direction. Neither of them care where they are going. Harry isn’t ready to sleep yet, and from the looks of it, neither is Draco. 

‘I didn’t know you were living in Paris either,’ Draco says, suddenly, after a few more minutes of silence. ‘I figured it’d be in the papers or something.’ 

Harry shrugs. ‘It was a bit sudden, I’m not sure if I’m really living here, or if I’m just staying for a while. I haven’t been here long.’ 

Draco hums. ‘I see. Was it the… gay thing? That brought you over, that is.’ 

Harry chuckles at that. ‘Kind of? Well, not really. I’m not really gay, I’m bi. But I didn’t want to stay in England after I came out because it was so toxic. They’re still very narrow-minded about it there, so I figured I’d come to the more enlightened Wizarding country and see if I fit in.’ 

That brings a smile to Draco’s lips, and he seems amused at Harry’s quip. But it’s true. Harry couldn’t handle the backhanded compliments, the passive-aggressiveness, every time he went out in public with a date that wasn’t a woman. His friends were fine, they were perfectly happy accepting him for who he was, even Ginny was incredibly supportive, considering their break-up two years before still felt like an open wound sometimes. Hermione was his most fierce supporter when he was living in London, and coming to Paris had been her idea. A change of scenery, a chance to meet new people, an opportunity to be anonymous in the Wizarding world. He had jumped on her suggestion instantly. 

‘I suppose it was easy for you to leave it all behind, it’s not like the precious Aurors have their hold on you anymore,’ Draco says. Harry nods. 

‘Joining them was the biggest mistake I ever made, I think. All that fighting felt so… pointless, after all I’d been through. I was glad to leave. I was teaching DADA part time for a while, but honestly it feels good to have a proper break and not have to worry about anything.’ 

‘I can imagine,’ Draco smiles. 

‘How long have you been here? What do you do?’ Harry asks. It feels surprisingly comfortable sharing his life story with Draco. He thought there’d be an awkwardness about it, but it’s like second-nature, walking along the Seine, under the Paris lights, taking to Draco Malfoy. 

Ron would have a heart attack at the image. 

‘I came about a year after the trials. The British Wizarding community was still less than welcoming towards former Death Eaters, and I couldn’t stand Father’s blabbering about bringing the Malfoy name to its greatness again, so Mother helped me find lodgings here, and I started out working on a Potions Mastery but after a while that lost its appeal as well. That was about five years ago. I don’t frequent Wizarding places much anymore.’ 

‘Oh? Really?’ 

‘Yes. The Muggle world is far less complicated. I work at an art gallery, and it has been good. Unlearning what had been drilled into my brain as a child was very cathartic. I read a lot of Muggle books, most of my friends here are Muggles, and I think it’s been good for my family as well. Mother approves, and she says Father has lost some of his Purebloodishness. I wouldn’t know, I haven’t spoken to him in some four years, since I officially came out.’ 

Harry is astounded. So much change has occurred in Draco’s life. He’d thought the heir to the most powerful Pureblood line in England moving to Paris and renouncing the Wizarding world would have made front page in the _Prophet_ but it seems that Draco had succeeded in making his escape in the shadows, just as Harry did. It’s incredible that they found each other at all. 

**5:23**

‘Was that your first time in a sex club?’ asks Draco. 

Even the Moulin Rouge is empty now. The sun is beginning to peek in the horizon but the streets are still dark. The sex shops and cafes are all closed, and the only people on the street are the leftovers from the clubs in the night and the early risers getting to their jobs in the early morning. The cobbled stones under their feet are moist from the night air, but the breeze feels surprisingly warm, though Harry still pulls his hoodie closer to his body as he crosses his arms over his chest. Draco is walking leisurely, like he knows these streets like the back of his hands, and he probably does. His hands are tucked in the pockets of his jacket, and he looks effortlessly cool. 

‘Yes. Though I’ve been to gay clubs before. The bartender from the Muggle club I usually went to in London recommended this one to me. Do you go there a lot?’ 

Draco shrugs. ‘Not really. When I’m in the mood but can’t be bothered to pick up someone, I’ll go. They have a nice selection of gins as well, which is pretty rare in France. Usually all they care about is the bloody wine and cognac.’ 

Harry laughed at that. Draco’s true personality was beginning to come out, and it was so very different from what he had experienced at Hogwarts. He was snarky but funny, and surprisingly relaxed as well, though that seemed like a new feature of his personality, Harry can’t imagine the Draco Malfoy he knew at school to ever be relaxed about anything. 

‘Do you pull a lot?’ asks Harry. He is weary of the answer. He wants to feel this night was special, but if Draco goes to the club and pulls often, then… he’s just another guy. 

Harry isn’t looking for a relationship right now, he really isn’t, but it feels so natural to be with Draco, it feels challenging and exciting, even just walking in silence. It’s like his blood sizzles with excitement whenever Draco is around, just like at school. 

Draco throws Harry a glance and smirks. ‘Not too often. I certainly don’t go on moonlit walks with the guys I do pull, though.’ 

A weight is lifted off Harry’s heart, and he breathes a sigh of relief that he hopes is not too obvious. 

‘Why?’ asks Draco. ‘Why do you ask?’ 

‘I…’ 

Draco suddenly turns around to face him. Their breaths mingle as Draco stares deep into his eyes. ‘You felt it, didn’t you? That pull?’ 

Harry knows exactly what he means. He nods. 

‘I felt it right on my chest while I was fucking that guy. It was so distracting but I kept going, then you were there, all around me. The pull got stronger, but I was focused,’ he says, his eyes on Harry’s lips. Harry puts a hand on Draco’s waist, running his thumb across his skin under his shirt. 

‘I felt it,’ Harry says, and Draco captures his mouth in a kiss again. Their tongues meet furiously, and it somehow feels more intimate than before, when they were naked and touching each other’s bodies. Harry holds Draco close as they kiss, and Draco cups his jaw, runs a hand through his hair. The pull is still there, so strong it almost hurts. But it feels so good to be so close, to be sharing this intense moment. He never wants it to end. 

‘I wasn’t looking for this,’ Draco whispers into Harry’s mouth. They are panting, breathless from the passionate kiss. 

‘Me neither. I don’t think we were supposed to look.’ Their eyes are closed and the heat coming from Draco’s body ground Harry, stops him from floating far far away. 

Draco gulps. They open their eyes. Draco grabs Harry’s hand. 

‘Come on, let’s see if we can catch the first metro,’ he says, dragging Harry along. The spell breaks again, bringing Harry back to the surface. He can hardly breathe and he is giddy with excitement at the world. For the first time he thinks he feels pure undiluted happiness as he and Draco run through the cobbled streets of Paris towards the metro station. 

**5:42**

The sky is purple by the time the emerge from the train. The orange from the new dawn bleeds into the dark blue of the night, and the scent of morning permeates the air. They are surrounded by old Parisian buildings, and Harry remembers reading about this neighbourhood, _Montmartre_ , the artists quarter. The perfect place for Draco. 

‘Where are we going?’ asks Harry. He has an inkling but wants confirmation from Draco. He wants to see Draco’s flat, be immersed in his life, see what kind of person he is in Paris, where he has grown up so much. 

‘My flat,’ Draco says. ‘Unless you don’t want to. 

‘No! I… do, I’d love to see your flat,’ Harry says. ‘I want to see what your life looks like.’ 

Draco chuckles. ‘It’s just an average life. It suits me just fine. I pay my own way through, which is extremely fulfilling. No one can tell me what to do.’ 

Harry takes Draco’s hand and intertwines their fingers. ‘You’ve grown up a lot. It’s quite a wonder to witness, if I’m honest.’ 

Draco squeezes his hand but stays silent. It feels like a life-changing moment. Last night all he wanted was to experience some Parisian nightlife, maybe pull someone and have a shag, but he couldn’t have predicted this. It’s unexpected, but Harry’s been alone for a long time now, and he’s missed having someone to share things with. Someone who gives him this feeling of rightness on his chest and butterflies in this belly. 

‘What next?’ asks Harry. ‘After we get to your flat?’ 

‘Hm. Well, I guess we could have sex again,’ Draco says playfully. ‘Or we could sleep, just sleep together.’ 

Harry smiles. ‘And then?’ 

‘Then we could go for breakfast, or brunch, or lunch, depending on when we wake up. Or I could cook something for us maybe.’ 

‘And then?’ asks Harry again, a somewhat faltering smile. Draco turns to him and presses a gentle kiss on his lips, then looks back to the street. 

‘Then we’ll keep going until we want to stop.’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

Draco smiles, and it’s the most beautiful thing Harry has ever seen. 

‘Yeah.’ 

**5:59**

**Author's Note:**

> I love love love _Theo and Hugo_ so much I wanted to write a Drarry fic about it, however, the film goes to some pretty dark places that I didn't quite think would fit this ship in this story, so I pretty much just used the general idea of walking through Paris and the first meeting from the film. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. Cheers ! xxx


End file.
